A NotSo Bloody Valentine's Day
by TerraZeal
Summary: After the events of Famine's attempt to ruin Valentine's Day, Dean and Cas try and have their own version of it. Dean/Castiel, Chuck!God. Fluffy mostly. T for slash only. Nothing beyond kissing here.


_**Author's Note:** Inspired by this day's rerun...in which Dean, for the first time, has never had a real Valentine's Day. Dean/Cas slash, obviously. Chuck!God here too, though he is written as the prophet. T for slash._

_My Not-So Bloody Valentine's Day_

It was the first Valentine's Day where Dean didn't celebrate. Not because of the hunt so much, but because he couldn't. Not without Sam finding out about Cas. Sam was locked in Bobby's panic room now. Famine was dead. Two out of four wasn't so bad.

Still, they had the worst horsemen left to contend with, if Bobby and Cas were an accurate source of information, which they had always been in the past. Death. How does one defeat Death, the 'big daddy reaper' of them all? They had Pestilence to go, still, but who couldn't handle a few nasty diseases? Dean had been subject to some in his life time...

"I know what you're thinking about. Don't. Its bad for your health. We'll...fall off that bridge when we come to it." It was Cas, who had appeared next to Dean, somehow knowing his location despite the sigils preventing angels from finding them. Maybe it was just DEAN he could find, because of their...bond. A bond Cupid had told them, in secret, was meant to be.

"Death is...unfathomable. I have no idea how we'll get his ring if we're to stop the Apocalypse. The only thing said to be able to kill Death is his own Scythe..."

"Cas, shut up. This is the very first Valentine's Day where I haven't...you know...enjoyed myself. I was planning on enjoying myself. At least alone if you didn't join me some time soon." Dean sighed and sipped his bear, leaning over the bar. The bartender just gave him an odd look, but placed another beer in front of him. It didn't seem to matter to her if they were two men wanting to enjoy Valentine's Day together.

He had prayed and cried for Heaven's help...with Sam...with the Apocalypse, with everything. All he got was an almost-mortal Cas. In his mind, that wasn't help. It was...sending him love, for sure, but not the heavenly help he had asked for.

"Dean, I heard what Famine said, while I was...uhm...indulging my vessel's hunger for red meat. You aren't dead inside. If you were, you couldn't love. Someone who truly is dead inside has no soul. You have a soul. One of the greatest, bravest souls I've ever met. You are far from dead inside."

Dean nodded, though not believing his or Cas's words. "I know...I know, Cas. I'm not dead inside. I'm not. I feel. For you. For Sam. For Bobby." Those words were true at least. He wondered for a minute whether his own heart was branded with cupid's enochian mark when he gazed at his wonderful angel, the angel who tried everything in his power to bring Dean out from the depths of his despair. The only thing that DID make him feel as if he weren't dead inside.

He pulled Cas into a tight embrace. "Cas, don't you leave me, you hear? Don't you ever leave me. I thought you were gonna die when Famine pulled his creepy shit on you, but at least you're still enough of an angel to not die to that sick sack of shit." He was crying on Cas's shoulder, likely cleaning the angel's dirty trenchcoat...but Cas didn't seem to mind and reciprocated, hugging Dean just as tightly.

"I won't leave you, Dean, ever. I promise. If God doesn't answer, if God doesn't come home...I'll find a way to make this world the way it was meant to be for you. To give you the life you were meant to have..."

Dean almost punched Cas, and would have if Cas still hadn't been holding him in place with that unnatural strength. "No, you won't. You won't change my life. You won't have God change it. Famine can claim I'm dead inside. I can have a brother addicted to demon blood. But I will NOT EVER give up my angel. For anything. Not even to have mom and dad back."

As if to emphasize this, he pulled back and Cas let him. He kissed Cas, softly at first, then harder, possessively. Cas did his best to reciprocate and kissed Dean as he was being kissed.

"Cas, do you think Cupid was right? He said my heart was already branded. That no one could claim it but my true match. He said that was you...are you my true match, Cas?"

The angel, still kissing along Dean's face, neck, ears, anything he could reach without going under the table, did not answer at first. He eventually stopped and pushed his chair back, gazing at his beloved Dean.

"Cupids are never wrong. When they say people are true matches, they are. Just like John and Mary were, though they had forces besides cupids working on them. Anyway, he wasn't wrong, Dean. You're my true match, and I am yours. If they cut our hearts out, they would find matching enochian sigils."

Dean nodded and leaned on Cas again. He needed someone to lean on just now. Cas just held him. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad Valentine's Day after all. Instead of sleeping with any random woman he could find, he was here, in the loving arms of his true match. He'd never thought his true love would be a MAN though, much less an angel. But here he was. Here they were. Cas was breathing soft, unintelligible words into Dean's hair. He didn't know what Cas was saying, but it was still comforting.

"Cas...uh...I'm gonna make the same offer I make to all my Valentine's dates...you wanna get a room?"

Cas laughed, but picked up Dean anyway and carried him out to the Impala. They would get a room. He would be able to forget about Sam and his grievous screaming for at least a little while. Cas would make sure of that. They had screaming of their own to do.

Which was why Dean was a little puzzled when Cas suddenly dropped him and said he had to go take a piss really bad. Did angels piss? Did he even want to know? Whatever. Cas would come back to him, just like always.

"Dean."

Dean whirled. It was that prophet, Chuck something, who liked writing books about them and had recently saved loads of people from being killed by ghosts.

"Chuck. You better not being writing THIS down. Or whats gonna happen when Cas gets back from his piss. Wait, CAN angels piss? You're a prophet. You should know this."

"I'm here because you called, Dean. You prayed. You asked for help from Heaven, from God, and you have got an answer."

Dean snorted. "From you, Chuck? I don't think so. You're just a prophet. Go away. Wait, how the hell did you get here anyway?"

Chuck gave a small shrug and smiled lightly at Dean. "God. I'm a prophet of the Lord and he sent me to tell you..." Chuck trailed off, as if deep in thought.

"Tell me what? Cas surely can't take THAT long to piss, unless he can't figure out how to undo his zipper, in which case I need to go help." Dean was about to smack that lewd smile off Chuck's face when he make that comment.

Chuck held up a hand. "No, no. I was sent to tell you that God won't help. CAN'T help...because of free will, Dean. If God just stepped in and stopped it all, would it be free will?"

"Look, pal, I know you've helped us, we've helped you, yada yada, but that doesn't just mean you can come around and ruin my Valentine's Day with Cas. You have visions and shit. You surely KNOW about that, right?"

Chuck nodded, not really needing to explain much else.

"Well then, go away. Free will, who cares? I'll be God's puppet if it will stop all this. If I can have a happily ever after with Sam, Cas, Bobby, even Mom and Dad back again. But no, its too late for that. Famine was right. I am dead. I am EMPTY all because of your God's damned FREE WILL shit. I prayed for help and got some stupid prophet? You're ALL God could send? You know, He must be a really LAME ASS God. I'd hate to see what He looks like."

Chuck giggled inwardly at that. "So you would. I've seen Him Dean, and it isn't all bad. I've seen...bits of pieces of your futures. Yours and Sam's. You think you won't ever be happy. You're wrong, Dean." Chuck stepped close enough to Dean to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You're so very wrong. It might look like you have to run through piles of shit to get there, but you'll be happy. I'm a prophet. I can see the future. I've seen yours, and it isn't all piles of dog shit. Trust me, Dean Winchester."

Dean shrugged off Chuck.

"Go away. And tell God I'm not impressed with his choice of prophets. What the hell are you wearing? Are those bunny slippers? And doggy jammies? Seriously weird, you prophet guys. What does Beck think of you, wearing all your weird shit?"

Chuck shrugged. "Becky thinks I'm cute. I think she's cute." Chuck leaned in to Dean, to whisper softly in his ear. "If Cupid could mark me, he would mark me for Becky and she for I. Just like you and Cas. Have a nice Valentine's Day, Dean. You deserve one."

With that strange saying, Chuck walked around a corner and vanished from sight. Cas immediately came running back into view.

"I didn't have to piss. Angels don't have to piss. What the heck?" He looked utterly baffled.

Dean sighed. "Uh, maybe some divine intervention." Cas gave him a REALLY odd look at that comment. Dean shrugged. "Nevermind. So how about that room, eh? Lets make this a Valentine's Day neither of us will forget."

This time, he picked up Cas and carried him to the Impala. He still remembered Chuck's words. That they would be happy. ALL of them. So it would all work out in the end. As Cas had said, what a prophet says can't be unsaid. So he was gonna be happy while he could. He drove Cas to the best motel he could afford and they had the night of their lives, and the best Valentine's Day in Dean's life. And the first in Cas's life.


End file.
